Reality is the Irregularity of the Past.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Amethyst Grave

Her Moonstone Jewel shined nothing like the Sun;

Festoon'd remembrance as the maidens reap-

Cool Jade mind-struck, her ghastly pen did stun,

And pricked my awful finger’s ancient leap.

Mauve—betwixt the Flower’s idle stemming,

I beheld what thieving gems did lie with aim!

And stayed before Time had found me swimming,

About Her stolen pendant all the same:

I said, “it’ll sleep,” anon dying mem’ry,

That hast swooned what Life the Mirror bade;

Beyond my reminiscent Ministry,

I’d betrothed her mourning, amethyst grave!

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